Death and Madness
by C. Sphire
Summary: In an attempt to bring his remaining brothers and sisters in Skyrim back to the Night Mother's heel, Cicero is left with no choice but to cash in an old favor with Astrid. Little does he realize on his way to Falkreath a chance encounter with an escorted kindly stranger sets Mistress Dupre's stammering apprentice back on the path she tried to escape over a decade ago.
1. Prologue

**Death and Madness: Prologue**

 **by C. Sphire**

~.~.~

When one child is arrogant,

the other disobedient

and the rest have lost faith,

the Night Mother remains silent

to the woe of the Keeper

and for the Listener she patiently awaits.

~.~.~

 **Games Elder Scroll Series Skyrim**

 **Location and Time: Skyrim post Helgen 201 4E**

 **Main Pairing: Cicero / Dragonborn - Listener**

~.~

 _Dear Astrid,_

 _I do hope this letter finds all of you well. I fear my others may not have reached you since there has yet been a reply._

 _Mother and I miss you along with our remaining brothers and sisters terribly. As you may know things have been rather difficult over the last dozen or so years. After waiting with no luck for our brother Garnag's return, we had no choice but to leave Cyrodiil behind. As mentioned in my message from last Sun's Dusk, we have booked safe passage by boat. I am happy to report we now reside in Skyrim._

 _You do remember the last time we saw one another, don't you? Our brief time in Bravil and the bit of trouble you made and I smoothed over? Sister, I do loath to press the favor but we are in great need of help now. All I ask is simple shelter for the two of us. I will keep my hands busy enough with tending to Mother and she as you know has never needed much. Just for us to listen to her and obey._

 _Please send word to the Windpeak Inn of Dawnstar. All so that Mother and I can receive further directions and may come home at long last. We eagerly await word from you._

 _Your most devoted brother,_

 _Cicero_

Astrid stared at the newest letter with a churning stomach. She set it aside with the three others stacked upon the corner of a map pinned down to her desk by daggers. Without fail they were delivered weekly now to the Dead Man's Drink and held by Valga Vinicia the innkeeper along with any other correspondences for the Dark Brotherhood. All oh so polite but always vaguely reminding her of the misunderstanding she had in regards to the old Listener's apprentice.

It was nearly a year when she received from him only a mention of his plans to book passage by boat from the Imperial City. How the cargo ship would make its first stop in Bravil, next in Leyawiin before hugging the coast of Black Mash then Morrowind before reaching Dawnstar's port. The convoluted route he explained was over anxiety in crossing Cyrodiil's Northern border when rumors of civil war in Skyrim were just starting up.

She found it odd he had decided to come even though she only confirmed her Sanctuary was indeed still operating. Remembering his odd manner from their time together in Bruma Sanctuary before it fell and the fact he did not request shelter, she did not even offer an invitation.

Instead she decided to wait until further word. Reasoning all manner of things could happen to the ship during the time it would take for him to reach port in Skyrim. And with few contracts and coin growing tight she was not about to hire a courier unless he offered a general location of where he had chosen to settle.

His request seemed innocent enough along with cryptic. But given their respective positions in their order a need for caution and secrecy were a necessity. The mentioning of the Night Mother however was new. Before he implied he was not alone but never gave specifics.

"What is it?" Arnbjorn asked knowing something was bothering his wife just by how she stood.

"It's the Keeper again. And from this newest letter we can reasonably assume he still has the Night Mother's body," Astrid explained, picked up the letter and handed it over.

After he skimmed it then watched her pace, he pointed out the obvious. "I don't get it. If you don't want him here then don't respond just like before."

"It's not that easy. I… owe him a favor. If it were not for his charm with the old Listener I probably would not have been sent to Skyrim. In turn I'm probably still alive today because of it." Drawing closer and embracing her husband tightly she added, "Also I would have never met and married you. He's not asking for much to collect. He just wants shelter for himself and the corpse."

Her husband's strong hands from the forge slid down her back. He said nothing at first instead he just cupped her bottom and pulled her closer. In her ear he rumbled softly, "Besides another brother dragging in some dried up meat and bones what is the problem?"

Pressed up against him, Astrid felt herself relax. After easing out the breath she had been holding, she explained, "Besides Cicero and I having some history, brief as it was? I really don't want it here. We've managed just fine without that old relic and Alisanne Dupre frankly was an idiot to protect it. Giving up one's life to save some crumbling mummified body? It's absurd! And the last thing we need to deal with is one of the others claiming to hear the Night Mother's voice and challenge my place."

"Humm… last we heard, Rasha tried that and it didn't end well for him. Pontius sent us that letter remember? All before things completely fell apart down there. And frankly we could use the extra set of hands around here since we lost Veezara's students to that last contract bonus. I told you after we lost Eime we should have let that morsel be. Little or not one doesn't escape execution as a dragon tears a town apart because they're easy to kill."

Shoving him away Astrid grumbled, "You don't need to remind me. The matter about her after she killed Mijei settles it. We leave her alone until further notice."

"No, we should drop the matter of that bonus entirely," Arnbjorn argued and watched his wife start to pace again. "Got a letter from Ulfberth last week about how some idiot outside of Warmaidens challenged her to a duel. The tidbit told him, 'I have no interest to stroke your ego.' When he didn't take that as a no, she summoned a few of those beasts from Oblivion. Then she just stood there, raising a ward when he managed to throw a few spells her way. It spooked Adrianne pretty good when all our bonus did next was watch on with an amused smirk while the flaming creatures and the wood elf friend of hers proceeded to rip into him. Then when he was dead she took everything he had and chucked his naked body in the waste canal before going back to forge as if nothing had happened. That's pretty cold. If you ask me, put her to the test and see if she wants to join us."

"I'll consider it but not without speaking with Veezara first. Till then knowing our luck the real target will get killed sometime during this damned war."

Glancing at the letter Arnbjorn asked, "So this Cicero fella. He's the same one who killed the Grand Champion and that murdering jester from the Emperor's court?"

"The very same," Astrid tightly confirmed, crossed her arms and sat on the edge of her desk.

After kissing her cheek he whispered in her ear, "We could use that kind of talent."

Meeting his eyes she pointed out firmly, "That talent was over ten years ago and it went straight to his head. Furthermore he seemed… off and was an annoying, clingy and manipulative little runt then too. I among others tried our best to avoid him in Cheydinhal but perhaps time has calmed him down. You're right husband. He could be of some use and a debut must be repaid."

As Arnbjorn went back to his forge, Astrid collected from the shelf some fresh parchment, a quill and an ink well. Sitting down to write and after dipping the stub to load it with the ink she whispered, "Still… I have a bad feeling that I'm going to deeply regret this."

 _Dear Cicero,_

 _I do remember the last time we saw one another in Bravil. Of course you and Mother may stay with us. It is the least I can offer for taking care of her all of these years. More hands for the harvest the better too. We do indeed live near Falkreath now. I will have our little sister Babette meet you at the Dead Man's drink. In case you and mother get lost. It also may be wise to take the west road that leads into town given what has happened to Helgen. We'll be keeping an eye out for you._

 _Safe journey to you brother._

 _Your sister,_

 _Astrid_


	2. Chapter One

**Death and Madness: Chapter One**

 **by C. Sphire**

~.~.~

When one child is arrogant,

the other disobedient

and the rest have lost faith,

the Night Mother remains silent

to the woe of the Keeper

and for the Listener she patiently awaits.

~.~.~

 **Games Elder Scroll Series Skyrim**

 **Location and Time: Skyrim post Helgen 201 4E**

 **Main Pairing: Cicero / Dragonborn - Listener**

~.~.~

~.~

.

 **26th of Frostfall (October), 4E 201**

Empty inside. That was how she felt as the past pressed around her once again. Memories of the priest, his words muffled and meaningless invaded not her flared ears, always hidden away by black braids. No instead they echoed from within her mind. As she struggled for gasps of fresher air and her pounding heart slowed down at long last.

Her near colorless blue eyes meandered over the walls of the last cave as she came to a stop. They then settled upon a lone skull upon display. Still colorful dried mountain flowers were about it and she reached out to snatch them up, like any other ingredient out of habit. But the painful moment from less than a year ago played on, stopping her short.

What the priest had spoken of life and death during the funeral, Beth formally Beatriz of Bravil had no idea. Even though she had stood right next to her quietly weeping stepfather Feidus, the shock of what had happened struck Beth numb. Her cheeks had remained dry then but everything about her was shrouded in a suffocating yet oddly reassuring fog.

A part of her had wanted to cry with him. But there were simply no tears in her left. For the weeks the illness took to run its course, Beth had spent them in secret as Ysbel tried to rest when not caught in fits of coughing.

 _Oh Mother, what good did they do?_ Beth thought bitterly. They had not helped, no more than the prayers, potions or healing spells. In the end her death had been a relief in some ways.

 _Worthless! I should have paid more attention to Mistresses lessons maybe then-no stop. I did everything I could._

After the priest offered one last condolence, it was just the two of them. Three if the Imperial woman once a lively bard in life but now lying so silent and too still in an alcove still counted. But then there were also far more if they were to take stock of all the other bodies at eternal rest in the Crypt.

"Come on, let's get out of here."

Beth's brow wrinkled under her circlet at his soft yet urgent tone but mumbled in agreement, "As you wish."

The smell of flowers, wax, incense, treated linens and decay of the Barrow had her breathing shallowly through her mouth now. Still lost in the strange haze she felt as if Feildus was pulling her along and leading them outside.

The bright light and cool stiff wind of outside made her sensitive eyes water. Beth brought up a slender arm to shield them till they adjusted. Her buck teeth bit down hard once again upon her now raw lower lip. She had worried upon it too much lately but with good reason.

"Since I pulled you from that wall with the strange writing on it you've been looking a little lost. Is the fresh air helping? You're not going to get sick again now are you?"

 _Wall? Wait, that's not Papa's voice…_

Beth realized silently and blinked a few times. All in an effort to pull from the past and deep thought, to pay more attention to their current present surroundings.

A small and playful tug upon her left braid helped. It had Beth turning to give Faendal a weak smile. Absently, she twisted the tip of her other at her right shoulder and blushed over her confusion. She tried to chuck it up to he had a few things in common with her stepfather. He was a wood elf with some age upon his face and bone white hair but the similarities ended there. For starters he was not nearly as old as Feildus or as stoic.

Over the last few weeks since escaping the destruction and her very execution at Helgen, Faendal had become a dear friend and protector. At least she kept telling herself that repeatedly whenever he smiled. And to think of him only as just an older brother she always wished she had whenever he drew close. Mostly he did so to adjust her grip during target practice. Still it took everything to keep her hands steady in those moments when he would whispered gentle encouragement. His warm breath teasing her ear as he gave his easily two human lifetime's worth of instructions on how to properly handle and aim a bow.

Taking his outstretched hand and looking over the edge down the mountain, she reassured him. "Its helping. I'll be fine. I just-just don't like being among the dead or in places like that. It-it stirs up bad m-memories."

"Or makes new ones," Faendal agreed as he readied to climbed down. Giving a small shiver he mumbled under his breath, "There were things in there I will never forget."

Giving his hand a squeeze Beth gave him a pained look. "I'm sorry but for what it's worth, thank you once again for your help."

"Well, it was only slightly worse than the usual trouble we find ourselves in. And I must thank you too for this newest armor. Never seen the likes of it before but it fits and works well." He brushed and checked over the red, brown and black leather. It was a little more broken in now. Sporting a few new scratches and rips he knew Beth would happily repair.

After securing a rope around a bolder, Faendal grinned up at her. As he made his way easily down the short cliff face first he reassured, "Don't look so scared this is nothing compared to the trees I use to climb in Valenwood. If you slip and fall I'll try to catch you, sister."

Although Beth classified herself as an Imperial, he had started calling her that the moment he learned her step-father was a Bosmer. But mainly Beth suspected to reassure Camilla. Regardless in turn Beth happily practiced the custom as well.

"What do you mean try, brother?" She could not help to grumble but cracked a grin to Faendal's not so innocent one.

"You could jump and find out," he dared in a tone she wondered if he was trying to be flirty or as usual simply joking.

"I-I should. Just to crush you," Beth threw playfully back and started to scoot down the rope.

She blushed as her descent to solid ground was not nearly as graceful and quick as his. It was a kindness he did not laugh. The sound of pebbles landing somewhere, what seemed too far below, had her swallowing hard. The thought of falling was terrifying and made her head swim. Still she forced her way down, kept her mouth tightly shut, listened to Faendal's advice instead of complain. When he plucked her up at the last few feet and carefully steadied her on the firm ground, only then did Beth give a shaky sigh.

Patiently, he waited as she calmed down. She did so by adjusting and brushing off her brown and lavender mage's robe. Then upon drawing up her matching hood she informed, "R-ready."

As they rounded the mountain and left Bleak Falls Barrow behind, Beth still shuddered in apprehension instead of relief. Rolling her shoulders did not help as the straps from her pack kept digging into them. Faendal's pack was filled up too with as much as he could carry. They had both found a great number of things of value in the Barrow. But the most important thing of all was they had the Dragonstone. Farengar Secret-Fire could stop whining-well actually chewing them out. He would do so every time they showed up at Dragonsreach without the ancient relic but instead to collect a bounty from the Jarl's steward Proventus Avenicci.

At first she brushed off his reminders with a flirty joke and he would let the matter go. But since their recent falling out Farengar had no more patience to spare.

 _"It's been what? One? Two Months since the Jarl has given you this task? What part of 'This is a priority' do you fail to understand? If you're still not up to it perhaps the Jarl needs to find someone more competent after all."_

Tongue tied in outrage, in return Beth could only glare at him. The last thing she wanted to admit to was being scared. Nor did she want to struggle to get the words out for someone too arrogant to realize or just simply indifferent in sending her into danger over just a possibility of retrieving something to shed light upon why dragons had returned to Skyrim. Faendal and her were, after all not about to go rushing into danger unprepared. The bandit camps she cleared with him were practice. Their coin from the tiny bounty, their general loot, armor and weapons also afforded them training, better gear, food and drink. Also it allowed her to practice what she loved above everything else, smithing.

 _Besides Farengar Secret-Muttonchops, since Helgen there have been no additional sightings of dragons anywhere! And what was I thinking with-ugh! I can still feel them!_

Beth winced, shivered and only felt the smallest tinge of guilt over putting the task off. It was done and as soon as they delivered the stone, she hoped the business with dragons, Farengar and the undead was settled. At least for a while so she could put aside exploring this new land and head for Windhelm to reunite with her father.

Yet as Faendal and her slowly made their way back to Riverwood she felt little sense of accomplishment raiding the hall of the dead and living to profit from it. Just the Dragonstone now, weighing heavily upon her. And a feeling of dread over what she experienced when she had gotten too close to the strange wall that chanted at her. Some of the runes on it had started to glow blue. An understanding filled her while everything became blurry and dark.

 **Fus**

 _What in Oblivion does that word mean?_

Whenever she whispered it upon her lips it felt like something more should happen but whatever it was it could not escape. Instead it locked in her throat much like any other word she struggled with in her youth and occasionally still. A void held it back and for now the word just stirred inside of her, yet to fully awaken, something powerful-violent.

Beth shivered.

When she turned away from the wall and the darkness faded, Faendal just gave her a curious look. Noticing her dazed expression his near black eyes had narrowed as he asked, _"Are you okay? That thing that came out of the coffin knocked the both of us around pretty hard. Maybe you should heal yourself more."_

She opened her mouth but then thought better of it. Instead she only nodded and tried to ignore the chanting that he did not seem to hear. It was not as if she did not trust him. In fact if it were not for his help and archery training she doubted she would have made it beyond the bandits alone. After dealing with the living Faendal and Beth had worked easily enough in tandem, with careful shots from their bows, to send the dead to a final rest before they could even rise from their alcoves.

No, she just did not want Faendal to think she had gone crazy. Especially since hearing things that others did not was nothing new.

 ** _"Heed my voice child, listen and obey. I take my leave now but if you do not follow you may come to regret your choice to remain innocent."_**

The inaudible whisper, that haunted Beth for years finally spoke up shortly after the rioting started in the year of one hundred and eighty-eight. In the fading chaos the rasping women's voice plagued Beth for days. At first Beth tried to simply ignore her calm yet firm instructions to prove herself worthy by committing murder.

 ** _"The prayer has been made. Instructions I have given. Fulfill the contract then seek the Dark Door in Cheydinhal. Give the answer to its question. Greet your brothers and sisters. Show them the blood upon your hands but quickly request audience with my Keeper. Give only to him the binding words and beware of the Speaker."_**

The odd orders the woman kept repeating inside of her head had Beth understandably questioning her sanity. Fifteen years old and a mere alchemist's apprentice to Alisanne Dupre at the time, upon receiving the news of her Mistress's death, Beth was in no mind to listen.

Instead she withdrew from everyone, even her parents. Taking to her room, she privately grieved over the loss of the Breton woman who had been more loving and patient with her than Ysbel had ever been. Working through her grief Beth ignored the voice and thankfully in time it faded once more to a whisper. Then at long last came the silence and the hope of sanity.

 ** _"You will come to regret your choice, my child."_**

Beth frowned in remembering the last thing the voice said to her before letting out a yelp of surprise.

"You're doing it again. Drifting off but at least you're not picking flowers and fungus or chasing after a bug this time." Faendal chuckled good-naturedly and caught Beth by the elbow before she could wander too far ahead.

Giving a shrug Beth sheepishly admitted, "I don't think I can stand to carry any more weight, even if it is just ingredients."

They kept walking till reaching a shallow part of the White River Faendal wondered, "Why bother may I ask? I've yet to see you make a potion."

"I just like collecting them. I use to do it all of the time for my Mistress back in-in Cyrodiil," she stammered a little nervously. Almost slipping in telling him what city she had come from.

"A habit then," Faendal worked out while picking out the shallowest part of the river before taking her hand and leading the way. "So you worked for her just gathering before coming to Skyrim?"

As usual whenever he asked her anything about her past it gave her pause. In fact she said nothing till carefully deciding to offer, "No. She was my tutor but departed now for over ten years. Still, I miss her greatly as we spent nearly each day together for almost seven."

Looking back he let out a low whistle. He then pointed out, "A private education? That had to have cost your parents a great deal."

It was something Beth never thought about before. As the ice cold water reached past the top of her leather boots and started to fill them she winced before hastily added, "Far as I know she just volunteered to keep me out of my mother's hair so she could work, playing music and singing at the local inn. My Mistress was an a-alchemist and an old friend of my mother's. She didn't have any children of her own so she took me on as an apprentice and tried to teach me how to use ingredients but…" Beth trailed off. All to concentrate on not slipping over the slick rocks in the stream's bed as she squeezed Faendal's hand tight.

Once steadied and when they started to move again Beth next admitted, "I've never been very good at making anything with them. But at least some of the-the other things she taught sunk in."

Beth hoped Faendal would not ask what those other things were. Since they involved the best places to stab, cut or hit someone one depending on if you wanted to simply disable them, kill them quickly or draw out their pain to get them talking. With a smile Alisanne Dupre would show her how best to handle and apply poison to an arrowhead or blade. Beth recalled how her sage colored eyes would light up as she explained to Beth on what to do on entering a room.

 _"You must always take note of any space you find yourself in for all possible escapes, weapons of opportunity and their proximity to others as well as yourself."_

 _"W-weapons of op-opportunity?"_

 _"An everyday object you can pick up and use to defend yourself. Take that heavy candlestick holder on the table next to you. Certainly it can be used to hit someone with but also consider it's flame and hot wax. Now say three men are in this room with ill intent. How would you defend yourself?"_

Beth no older than twelve at the time looked about the room for a while before she shyly answered, _"T-the oil. I-I'd s-splash it up-upon them-or one of-of them and t-throw the c-candle?"_

 _"Not a bad idea but the candle could go out if thrown. Which reminds me maybe it's time I teach you to cast flames."_

 _"M-mistress why m-must I learn all t-this? N-not tha-that I d-don't- a-appreciate-just w-wondering."_

At first Alisanne said nothing and just tucked a lock behind Beth's ear with the saddest of looks.

 _"Everything I do and teach to you is to help keep you safe. You are very important to me and this world is a dangerous place. Do you understand, my child?"_

Beth's eyes burned at the memory as a surge of heartache before the old anger hit.

 _Gods I wish I knew who killed her!_

"If anything Orgnar and Lucan at least seem to appreciate you keeping them well stocked," Faendal agreed as they reach the other bank.

"Hum? Oh y-yes and I their coin," Beth mumbled distractedly as they stopped to dumped out their boots and wring out their stockings. Minutes later, continuing on and the Riverwood Trader coming into sight, she could not helm to tease, "So ready to pay Camilla Valerius another visit?"

Faendal grinned widely but said nothing and blushed.

Beth giving him a little playful push urged, "Come now, Brother. Tell her all about how we got the claw back. Won't that be fun?"

Since they were getting close he lowered his voice and pointed out, "Sven is the better one for stories."

"All he's got. Not adventure like you," Beth reminded once again.

"True but I just look at her and get so tongue tied. Besides," he paused and shifted nervously from one foot to another. "I would not want to upset her with um-well what we all encountered in there."

Beth hated to give advice but tried anyways softly since Camilla was probably inside.

"Faendal for the hundredth time, you need to talk with her about something! Or well for starters ask her a question instead of just standing there. If you get nervous just remember how brave you were in Bleakfalls, Embershard Mine, the Valtheim Towers, that Halted Stream-"

"I wasn't so brave there," Faendal unhelpfully reminded.

Beth however waved the statement off with, "That's only because it was our first time! Our first real bounty and I screamed too."

He chuckled remembering. "Indeed you did. I swear you can hit a fancy hat off a puffed up Thane from thirty yards but with a one handed sword you can't hit the broadside of a-" The glare and pout she threw him had Faendal deciding to clear his throat rather than finish that thought.

Cracking a smile Beth suggested, "Why not simply tell her about all you've been up too? No need for fancy words. What better way to find out how she feels about you?"

"I don't follow how bragging is going to help me figure out if she likes me or not," he grumbled under his breath and crossed his arms.

Narrowing her eyes at him while he scratched at his neck nervously, Beth wondered aloud, "Have you ever…"

To his "don't you dare even think that" look, she sputtered a little but was wise enough to drop the matter.

Hand on the shop door's ring Beth took a moment before quietly explaining, "I'll admit, I'm hardly any expert either when it comes to this. But at least I can give you a women's perspective. Just pay attention to how she reacts to the very idea of you being in danger. If she comes off worried or upset that's a good thing, it means at least she cares for your safety, right?"

Faendal grabbed her hand before she was about to open the door. In fact he looked a little panicked. "Wait! And what if she isn't at all?"

"Then you deserve better or maybe she's so confident in your abilities that she doesn't feel the need to worry. Whatever the reason, you can't just keep going in there and pretending to browse."

"Some help you are! I also do real business in there too by the way," he grumbled but she could tell it was half hearted. She pulled the claw from her pack as she waited patiently for him to ready himself. After a few breaths he sighed, "Oh all right then. I'll give it a try. If anything at least Lucan and her will be happy to get that back."

"True," Beth murmured in agreement. When they stepped inside she ignored Lucan's usual curses about thieves and holding it up declared, "Oh cheer up! We showed them and look we have your golden claw!"

"You found it!" To this Lucan's eyes went wide and he started to laugh in relief.

It did not matter to her how much gold the Imperial gave them for it. She liked Lucan all the same, even though he could be a bit hard on his sister Camilla for her business suggestions. At the very least he did appear to know what he was doing. For it seemed he always had the best enchanted jewelry and other items. He also had a wide selection of everything, especially pelts Beth could work into leather. Their main source, she guessed were sold to them by Faendal from his hunting.

As he worked up the nerve to start up a conversation with Camilla, Beth happily took on the task of keeping Lucan busy with selling their loot and asking if anything new had come in. After spending nearly all of her share of the gold he gave them on mostly healing potions, she spied a pretty gold and sapphire ring. But it was more than just another pretty babble, it shimmered. Infused with an enchantment that Lucan said would increase how fast her magicka would return after casting a spell.

"Oooh how much?" She tried not to squirm as she twisted the others upon her fingers.

"One thousand, three hundred sixty-three gold Septims."

She let out a low whistle and dug into her pack, started digging out bits of armor and weapons. Some of it was from the bandits and the rest from the draugr deep inside the barrow.

Offering a small flirty smile Beth inquired, " One thousand, three hundred sixty-three? Really? So what will you give me for all of this?"

"Well, it's a good amount of stuff my dear but most of it needs to be cleaned and to be perfectly honest the rest of it is rather… old," Lucan gave on a sly smile back as he tapped an ancient Nordic bow.

"Old? Why Lucan, these are not old they're valuable antiques. Collector's items," Beth started to haggle back and cross her arms when he started to laugh.

It sounded a little too much like Belethor's to be of any good. After an hour or so later of bargaining Beth found herself alone, out in the dark and cold rain cursing the merchant.

"Oh of course not enough to get the ring! Grrrr! I need to find an amulet of Dibella or-or something!" She growled and brought the axe down hard. Regardless she still liked Lucan. But the fact he politely turned down her offer to buy him a drink at the Sleeping Giant on top of staying firm on his offer chaffed her pride.

Seeing Faendal at long last chatting up Camilla and it appearing to be going rather well, Beth also did not have the heart to get in the way. She had left him in the warmth of the Riverwood Trader with Camilla hanging upon his every word, all to chop wood and earn a bit more coin.

As she worked, she wondered what was going to happen next. Faendal and she had agreed to head back to Whiterun to turn in the Dragonstone tomorrow after the Trader opened. Camilla wanted them to check in before they headed off. And since things seemed to be going so well for the two of them, Beth debated if it would be fair to even ask her friend to escort her to Windhelm.

 _If he wants to stay in Riverwood, I could just hire a sell sword, take the Northbound road to Dawnstar first and from their head to Windhelm._

It would mean she and the new companion would need to take a wagon instead of buying a horse. The upside to this would be not only would she save herself a considerable amount of gold but the slow wagon would afford her more time to think things over. To be sure she was doing the right thing in joining with the Stormcloaks. That and upon meeting Ulfric mentioned there was a hidden chest near the opening of the eastern iron mine in Dawnstar. A chest filled with what, he was not sure of but had asked Jarl Skald the Elder to fill with items that could be of use in the event of an emergency.

 _"Weapons, armor, odds and ends I imagine. Sell them or use them in the unlikely event we fall under attack and become separated then join me in Windhelm when you can. Galmar I'm sure will want to see you. You do know how to pull your weight in a fight, correct? If not we could always use more mage healers. Just rest assured we will be far safer soon enough. I have more men waiting to meet us at Darkwater Crossing."_ His tone had been anything but warm as he looked down his large nose at her in disdain. She was still in her prisoner rags since his mean had spared no time for her to change into something else.

Beth winced under his gaze and could not raise a single word in her defense. He had risked enough sending some of his men over the border to breaking her out of the Bruma. It really was not her fault entirely that his men found her incarcerated. While waiting for them she was arrested for stealing food three days after she spent her last coin. Pinching a sweet here and there was second nature to a child growing up in Bravil. She never took anything but food even though she had watched some of her friends take far more. But hunger had made her clumsy and it galled her to no end that she was arrested over a carrot.

 _A stupid and near worthless carrot! Well at least not just a carrot..._

The guard had found a few more things too, such as bread, cheese, a few chicken breasts, wine and apples. But unable to pay the fine, they threw her into a cell with Lokir. Who at least tried to steal something far more valuable. A horse.

The utter disapproval in his deep voice still made her cring as she remembered him commanding, _"You will now stay out of trouble. Are we clear? I will not have a daughter of Skyrim that will not abide by my laws."_

At the time she had not let hardly any emotion show. Simply gave a stern nod, just grateful to be out and free again. Equally thankful he did not press for details. That would have been ever the more mortifying. From there on he ignored her and with nobody else paying her any mind she let her mind drift.

It was a habit she had for as long as she could remember. Or perhaps it had only grown worse after Mistress Dupre's death. Even now it was so easy now for her mind to wander or empty. She would just disconnect from the world around her. Understandably this led to Beth having trouble functioning at times. Before Faendal, thankfully her stepfather was always there for her as he continued to teach her the blacksmith trade.

Things had been at least tolerable after Ysbel's death and slowly getting better. That was until the day an Imperial soldier came and demanded her stepfather make steel for the Empire. Politely Feildus refused.

Besides he was never a smith for weapons. He preferred to make nails, buckles, horseshoes and hinges, just simple and peaceful things. The soldier did not want to take no for an answer. When he drew his sword and started to press it to her pleading stepfather's throat Beth saw red.

Something snapped inside of her and with a roar she snatched up the nearest thing: a rod of metal with a white hot end ready for the anvil and hammer. But instead she slammed it against the soldier's head and kept bringing it down over him until he no longer moved, breathed or had a head.

The worst thing of all as she stared at the gory mass panting was it had felt so good and satisfying. For the first time in years she felt alive and no longer scared. As a dark laughter bubbled up and past her cruelly smiling lips, Beth had wondered how she could have killed the man differently, more efficiently with less mess had she a proper weapon.

 _Mmm like… a dagger. A nice sharp dagger._

It was her stepfather's horse cry which snapped her out of it.

 _"What! what have you done? Oh Beatriz! What-what have you done!"_

Realizing she had been laughing, Beth slapped a hand over her mouth, swallowed then struggled to explain, _"H-he was going to... going to h-hurt you. I-I will not p-permit that!"_ Still winded she gasped out as the now bloody rod fell from her shock slackened grip.

 _By the Divines! Why did I start laughing? I must be truly crazy!_ Beth thought at the time as they stared at one another. At least until Feildus came to terms with what just happened. What she, his quiet, well behaved yet sullen stepdaughter was capable of and he gave a slow nod.

Feildus then said very quietly, _"Pick up that metal. Put it back into the coals to burn off the-that mess. And then go to your room and clean up. I will…"_ he pointed to the nearly headless body and swallowed. _"I will take care of disposing of this."_

 _"Yes Papa,"_

she gave meekly, dropped her eyes to the ground and quickly obeyed. Even though she was far gone from being a child, she suddenly felt like one then. But this was more than pulling some prank or stealing a sweet roll.

It was some time after nightfall before her stepfather came up the stairs. The same dazed look still in his eyes. Dirt and sweat clung to his clothes and still shaking hands. What he said next was crushing.

 _"I will send word to your father to meet you in Bruma."_

Beth stared at Feildus in dismay. The last thing she wanted to do was go anywhere. How would her beloved find her after all?

The Messenger had promised to come back. Beth's eyes burned at the thought that perhaps it was time to finally let that childish hope die as well.

 _It has been at least what? Thirteen years? Gods where has the time gone!_

Cold shock washed over her as she cried out angrily, _"Go? Why? Just because I'm not sorry! He was going to hurt you! P-please don't send me away!"_

 _"I have to. The body is gone but in time he will be missed. For your safety its best you get out of Bravil."_

 _"I face no more dangers than the usual here and what of yours?"_

He acted as if she said nothing and kept on with, _"Look Beatriz. I have some gold saved to help you get to the Tap and Tack and stay there for a few weeks. Hopefully by then your father will send someone to sneak you over the border and help you settle in Skyrim."_

 _"But how will I know it is him or can trust who he sends? How will they recognize me? Does he even remember my name or my mother's?"_ Beth could not stop the sneer upon her face or in her tone adding, _"And since when does he care for his bastard daughter? Why I doubt I'm the only-"_

Her step father only had to glare to get her to hold her tongue. _"Aye, you would do well to keep doing that. Better to remain silent, listen and think first before opening your mouth. Now given what's happened recently I best send him a code," he thought for a moment then decided. "I'll tell him you'll only know it is safe and will reveal yourself if he or his men inquire about the health of your mother. You will tell them, 'She walks with Talos now.' Remember that and if anyone asks for your name give them a false one but keep it consistent."_

 _"What if… will you tell him?"_

Beth tried but having no name to give Feildus, dropped her eyes to her clasped tight hands. _"_ _N-nevermind I doubt he will ever keep his word."_

Not missing her gaze fall from the carefully dried but now so very fragile wreath of nightshades Feildus sighed. Putting his rough hand over hers, he gently reminded, _"You need to stop waiting. All of this time, truly? Gods child, if he's not dead then he is a fool to have broken it."_

Weakly Beth tried to explain, _"I-I just thought I saw him last Sun's Dusk is all. But you're right, of course. Either way he should be dead to me."_

The next morning was a gloomy one with her stepfather trying not to cry as he loaded her with a pack of supplies and the gold. He had already made arrangements to have a cart take her to Bruma and had also sent the letter to her father the evening before.

 _"Your real father is a good and honorable man,"_ he tried to reassure and squeezed at her shoulders.

 _"Don't call him that Papa. How can he be a good man? But then if he had not left…"_ Her throat closed up as she stared into her stepfather's wide golden eyes and tried not to cry.

Feildus gave her a wan smile and hugged her tightly, _"I love you Beatriz. And will also miss you but this is for the best. At least try to give him the same respect you have given me. Show him how well your mother and I did in raising you."_

 _"I promise. I love you too. Goodbye Papa."_

 _"May the eight or the nine guide you," he chuckled and cracked a smile._

Now pushing the bittersweet memories away Beth gave a wet sniff and stopped chopping. Her small calloused hands from the forge still felt raw. She was also soaking wet but she could at least grin at the huge pile of split wood she had made. Hod was going to go broke and that enchanted ring was as good as hers.

~.~.~

~.~

.


	3. Chapter Two

**Death and Madness: Chapter Two**

 **by**

~.~.~

When one child is arrogant,

the other disobedient

and the rest have lost faith,

the night Mother remains silent

to the woe of the Keeper

and for the Listener she patiently awaits.

~.~.~

 **Games Elder Scroll Series Skyrim  
Location and Time: Skyrim post Helgen 201 4E  
Main Pairing: Cicero / Dragonborn - Listener**

~.~

.

27th of Frostfall (October), 4E 201  
7:21 pm

The feel and sound of the dried frost mirriam being pulverized under the pestle brought the corners of Cicero's lips to curl up more than usual. The repetitive action helped, along with the humming to push his worries away but not entirely.

"So very many letters, all so polite and yet no word back? Not one message at all? What if the last Sanctuary has fallen? Or well-no… no dear-dear sister Astrid surely hasn't forgotten Cicero, has she? A debit aside, certainly she misses our Mother's guidance," he murmured under his breath and kept grinding. "But then she still takes contracts. She leads now a Speaker without a Listener and-"

 _'Mindful of that tongue of yours or I'll have to make you kill that old bag.'_

The Jester warned as his all too familiar tittering followed and echoed about in Cicero skull. It had Cicero nervously glancing over his shoulder. Even though he was certain Frida had not heard what he just whispered aloud.

The elderly Nord alchemist and owner of the Mortar and Pestle in Dawnstar indeed just kept on dusting her shelves. Only pausing briefly now and then as she concentrated on rearranging the filled and ready for sale bottles as she hummed away even louder than Cicero.

The reason being, like many in their twilight years her hearing had grown rather poor. Or so Cicero had figured out along with she did her best to hide it by reading other's lips. But it was a blessing really or so Cicero thought as she was spared the majority of his outbursts. At least with Frida all he needed to do was turn away to hide the occasional argument with the Jester.

As for his own humming and out of place laughter it was often an attempt to ignore the other spirit inside of him. The very last one he saved and culled for Sithis before retiring his blade to become the Keeper.

Atticus who in time pierced through from the Void, a gift from the Night Mother or so he claimed and Cicero hoped. Merry in death as well as in life his once estranged, deeply troubled childhood friend still to this day brought him cheer. But with it Atticus also helped carried out her will along with his own mix of mischief and torment.

Even now after being mostly alone in Cyriodill for so many years, Cicero still struggled. To not be ruled by anxiety or give voice to every thought that ran through his crowded mind to drown out the external silence.

"Stop calling her that!" Cicero growled under his breath.

The spirit delighting in getting a rise out of him started to chant the name and snicker.

 _'Whatever do you mean? Old Bag? Ooohhh old bag-bag-old-old bag! Ha-ha-ho-ho-hee!'_

Cicero rubbed his brow and started to hum again, squeakily to tune out and annoy the long dead Jester. It worked. Cicero could feel Atticus fume but at least he also grew quiet and retreated once again. Back to the darkest corners of Cicero's mind and with a sigh of relief he checked the mortar.

The leaves were down to a rough looking collection of crumbs and could be poured into the alembic. But in thanks to Frida's patient advise he now knew working this ingredient especially down into a fine powder would release more of the arcane properties into the vapor. In turn it would make the next step of condensing it to liquid easier.

He was about to continue when Frida's humming stopped. In its place the softest of sounds caressed his ears of parchment being shuffled. When it paused, Cicero peeked over his shoulder again to give her an inquiring stare.

Holding up a red wax sealed letter she called, "Ah well lookie here Cicero. I bet this is from your family at last. I do hope it's some good news," her voice wavered warm with genuine affection. Giving him a sorrowful look her rummy blue eyes watered a little as she added, "Such a shame it did not come before your mother's passing."

That was a lie of necessity he had told her among many others. All so he would not have to kill her out of caution upon leaving. Although he missed the act and more so the hunt dearly, Cicero had grown rather fond of the lonely and motherly woman. One who, in her youth from her tails, knew how to have fun and to this very day enjoyed a good joke when not telling one.

Wiping his hands on his simple fur armor, Cicero was quick to put his leather gloves back on. He then straightened and inquired, "A letter for me? Truly one for humble Cicero?"

At her nod, he snatched it eagerly from her knobbed fingers after the few quick steps it took to reach her from across the room. Hands shaking a little, he clumsily opened the letter. After skimming it for the answer, he let out a short delighted chuckle.

"Ah good news then? Good, you deserve some dear," Frida smiled and laughed.

Cicero nodded quickly as he reread the letter to be certain then gave a little jig of excitement. Next he looped his arm with hers and spun them about.

"Yes-yes! From my dearest Sister and her family. Cicero will be with them all at long last!"

"Oh my!" Frida cried but indulged him with a small chuckle. She waited till he stopped and to catch her breath before demanding, "My... well you be sure to write me now and then young man."

"Oh but of course dearest Frida!" Cicero exclaimed and sounded even a little affronted at the very idea she would think he would forget.

Calming but fussing with the letter he assured, "Why you've provided so much more than ordering in hard to come by ingredients for Mother. You've taught Cicero a few new alchemy secrets. Most of all you've been oh so understanding of Cicero's ah... well _my_ eccentricities. Not to forget you've been most wonderful company too!"

"You as well, I'm going to miss you. And it was no trouble dear. None of my children took an interest. So I happily pass on my knowledge to you."

Cicero watched as she gave his arm a pat to avoid watching the women's eyes water. Knowing if he saw any tears he might smile or worse laugh. Not in spite to her sadness, it was simply his way to cope with most painful moments. Instead he struggled to keep his face neutral and only when she let go of him did he dare to look back up. He risked a small grin and hoped it came off as grateful.

Frida offered a tight one back, cleared her throat, shook a finger at him and suggested, "Now. Before you go you really should have Rustleif look over that wagon and horse you purchased. Those Khajiit are a shady lot. Best to make sure nothing is amiss. One can never be too careful when on the road."

"Thank you as always for your wise counsel," Cicero humored her as he stuffed the letter away in a belt pouch.

Even though he had no intention of doing so since he had bought many things from the caravan before with no issues. The second reason being he felt he could not spare the coin. Years living in seclusion had drained the majority of his savings he had earned from his assassin days. It helped that when not taking care of the Night Mother he also gathered ingredients to make mostly poisons to sell when living in Cyrodill. But it was working with Frida these last few months which enabled him to secure enough funds for further transportation to Falkreath. It even allowed him to repair and install some protective features to his sanctuary.

What little he had left now Cicero wanted to use solely for emergencies rather than fill the pockets of a blacksmith. One who was most likely keen on seeing it so given the man's wife was with child.

Cicero moved to go but paused and thought to give Frida a departing hug. Although surprised she still welcomed it and in fact returned it tightly.

He tried not to care but holding her, Cicero voice wavered in worry. "You'll be alright without Cicero, won't you? If things were different Cicero would stay to help you-I would. And what of the nightmares? Are they getting worse for you as well?"

Frida patted him on the back and reassured, "Don't you worry. That priest of Mara will get to the bottom of it I'm sure. Magnus is about to set, will you be leaving tonight?"

"No, it's best to just ready then. Much to do before… I go, visit tomorrow in the morning again I will," Cicero could not help but to promise.

Frida next slowly let him go and followed him to the door. He gave her a wan smile, paused at the threshold and gave it a worried look. His mouth went suddenly dry as his heart rate tripled. In embarrassment his face started to burn hotly. Concentrating on keeping his breaths even, he felt the very start of a possible panic attack. It had been weeks since his last one. They had in fact nearly disappeared once he left Cheydinhal and found his new Sanctuary in Skyrim. The Night Mother secured away inside had put his mind at greater ease. Having a friend helped as well but now he would have to let her go. As for traveling, he was not looking forward to the Night Mother being so vulnerable once more.

"Need a push?" She asked with no guile since she knew of the cause for his hesitation. In fact she helped him with it after he just shook his head by saying, "Take your time then. No rush, just remember to lock up. I'll be upstairs reading if you need anything and Cicero?"

"Yes Frida?" He winced at how shrill his voice became at the stress. Still he forced a hopefully chipper smile.

"You're more than welcome to keep the key. You brought me back my ring for more than that I trust you, so therefore you'll always have a place here... if you need it." When he did nothing but nod slowly, she swallowed hard and added, "See you tomorrow dear. First light?"

Cicero nodded again and watched her make her way up the steps. Alone he reminded himself he would see her tomorrow to push down the panic. It took only a few minutes before he took a slow step through the door and shut it behind him. After locking it he tenderly rubbed at the key before slipping the simple cord over his head and tucking it back under his shirt. The cold metal felt good when it warmed once again against his scarred skin. Drawing up his fur hood, his hands shaking, he looked about and let out a few breaths.

"Cicero did it!" He praised and calmed completely. "Easy and no push at all needed this time!"

The nerve-wracking anxiety strangely always passed once he got past any threshold. As he started for Rustleif to collect the horse and wagon he tried not to think about how many times he would need to cross the Sanctuary's to load up the Night Mother and his things. Instead he looked down at his seemingly simple leather boots. He hoped the enchantments of lifting on them as well as his gloves would make the coming task of moving the Night Mother easier.

"If not Cicero supposes, why not hire someone to help like months before? An unsavory and hungover sailor would least once again be so easily missed if needed."

Atticus stirred at the prospect and eagerly he agreed.

 _'Yessss! Coin so easily reclaimed. For a stranger should not be spared after seeing what lies beyond our dark door, should they not?'_

To this Cicero and Atticus shared a dark companionable laugh, just like old times whenever they went upon a hunt.

~.~.~

Beth was drifting. Mentally and literally, Faendal observed as he followed her off the road into the prairie wilds of the Whiterun hold. He could not really blame her given what they just walked away from.

It was something the two of them had never done before, even for Beth. Instead of running away from a dragon, this time she along with him had been pulled into the effort to fight back. The beast had been spotted close to the city of Whiterun at the Western Watchtower. They along with a dozen or so city guards were led by the Jarl's housecarl to investigate.

She was a dunmer by the name of Irileth. One who after sizing the two of them up grimly ordered, "Come on and try not to get yourselves killed."

Nervous like everyone else, Faendal paused from obeying to share an inquiring look to Beth. Even with her experience at Helgan, some bounties and the barrow, she was still very green in battle. And being from Cyrodiil, this also was not her fight. Still, after a small nod she silently followed him. He found it commendable, since she knew what they were up against. But mostly, he was warmed by the fact she stuck close to his side when joining the fight.

Well in all honestly, they both participated in it with extreme caution and with every ranged assault they had at their disposal. Faendal after casting oakflesh shot one arrow after another. Beth did the same, when she was not summoning flame atronachs to hopefully at least distract if not help wound the beast. All while they tried to ignore the fact that their elven arrows looked to be nothing more than bits of straw stuck among the dragon's drab sage scales.

"Aim for the wings!" Beth had cried out over the outraged roar of pain. Observing how the dragon's flight faltered slightly when her arrow missed its underbelly and tore through the membrane between its fingers instead.

"Yes I see it! Everyone hit the wings! Put it to ground!" Faendal shouted out and adjusted his aim.

The guards listened and spread the news of the weakness among their ranks. It was not long after that when the dragon landed gracelessly, bleeding, furious and snapping. The very ground shook from the impact.

Keeping low, Faendal and Beth made their way to a nearer fallen wall. From behind it they kept shooting. This time aiming for the beast's eyes and tender looking opened mouth. Everyone fought bravely but some unwisely moved in too soon. A few guards getting too close ended up getting cooked alive as others became the beast's last meal.

Still when the dragon succumbed finally to the onslaught of arrows, spells and all manner of wielded weapons tired cheers rose up among those who could still stand. The two friends however said nothing and eyed each other as the glowing shimmer from their oakflesh spells fractured and flashed away one by one. Instead they sagged against the crumbling stone wall dirty, tired and in a daze.

"Did we... did we really just do that? Help kill a dragon?" He asked her in awe. At seeing her equally shocked wide eyed expression he started to laugh in relief.

Faendal's grin faded as Beth only cracked a weak smile and when she slid down the wall it turned to a grimace. With just her left hand she awkwardly dug through her pack at her right hip. Her other arm hung limp. He hoped it was only sore from drawing back on her bow repeatedly since his was burning as well.

When she shakily handed him two small healing potion she explained, "That's it and we're out. I made them awhile ago and from using the other one I-ah well... to be honest it's not perfect. I think it damages the flow of magicka since I cannot do anything right now. Still they should help someone, right? I don't think they would mind or for that manner even know any spells. Can you see if anyone needs them more than us?"

"What about you?"

"I'll be fine Faendal. Just give me a few minutes to… " she waved her left hand about. He guessed to indicate it would be awhile before she could heal herself.

When he tried to check her over she shook her head. "N-no, go on. I'm well enough. Just a bit sore really."

"Well only if you say so. I won't be long," he promised and looked to find someone able-bodied.

After handing the bottles off to the nearest guards surrounding a severely injured one, Faendal took a moment to heal himself.

Once again he was grateful to have relented and learned the spell along with one which hardened his flesh at Beth's insistence. In gratitude for all of his archery lessons she had surprised him with the tomes. At first he was reluctant to even try. His Altmer Commander from decades ago, all too happily pointed out his lack of ability. An opinion he should have never listened too. Even though in truth Faendal at first could hardly light a candle with simple flames.

Beth however would not take no for an answer. Instead she helped him focus the small amount of magicka he could wield into something useful. He still struggled with flames but with time, her positive encouragement and practice, his confidence along with the well of magicka inside of him grew. She even went so far as to enchant some of his armor. They were not yet as good as something one could buy from shops but they did make the whole casting process a little easier. That and he thought the extra effort was sweet of her.

With the minor scratches sealed and aches eased, Faendal took a few more steps to look at the dragon's body in awe. But his upper lip curled at the smell of flesh starting to burn.

"What in..."

The carcass burst into flames. A flash of heat had him as well as other's backing up. Some cried out in alarm and others ran. Cords of bright colored lights twisted forth and a high winds blasted over him. But as Faendal raised an arm to shield his face and turn away, he realized the force of this strange explosion was rushing straight into his friend.

"Beth!"

She gave a small yelp, stumbled and fell upon her backside in pure shock. Remaining on it she gracelessly scooted, kicked and crawled a few feet backwards in a futile effort to get away. It was of no use, for whatever it was seemed drawn to only her and followed.

Faendal could only take a small comfort in she appeared unharmed by what was happening. At least she was not screaming out. Instead her eyes remained huge and fixed on the burning dragon until the wind, flames and light started to die down. In seconds nothing but an odd purple, blue and pink aura about her lingered. To all of this she started to blink again and with a moan of relief, she flopped back in the tall grasses. Her gaze focused upon the gold gilded edged clouds in the redden sky high above. Just watching Magnus set, she tried to catch her breath and calm down.

He stared at her a bit dumbstruck along with the others, trying to process what had just happened. Then to the body, reduced to bones with bits of tendons keeping them together. Looking back to Beth, he could only work out she must have come up behind him and somehow her closer proximity to the dragon set off the strange event.

"I can't believe it! You're… Dragonborn..."

As the guard continued to exclaim how his grandfather's tales were true and how she took its very soul, the Bosmer paid the yammering Nord little mind.

"Beth, are you all right?" Was all he could think to ask and after realizing he was just standing there, he moved to crouch to her side. Already she was working to get up but when he helped her to stand again in a daze she clung to him. He felt her tremble and could not resist the chance to hug her tightly. However it was not long before she came to her senses and wiggled free.

Without a word she walked up to the beast's now exposed skull. Still entranced her hand shook as she reached out and tenderly caressed up the snout, between its eyes sockets and up a horn.

Following behind her the guard asked, "That's what you did isn't it? Absorbed that dragon's power?"

"I d-don't know what happened to me," she murmured numbly back and for the moment seemed outwardly calm. But Faendal did not miss the shiver that ran through her frame as she moved to put some distance between herself and the man.

"There is only one way to find out. Try to shout… prove it." The same guard kept after her and prodded, "Come on show us all your thu'um!"

This had Beth flinching and holding herself protectively. With her on the verge of fury and tears if had Faendal hackles rising up. Stepping between the two, he got into the human's helm covered face and snapped, "Back off! How's that for a shout? Back off or I'll-"

"Or what elf?" The question was more posturing than anything for the guard next prudently gave them space. Then as he turned away he asked his commander, "What do you say Irileth? You've been awfully quiet."

Faendal paid what they said next no mind and looked to see how Beth was doing. She had not lingered. Instead she knelt inside the dragon's massive rib-cage. Completely oblivious to the chuckles from a few other guards as she sifted through piles of ash. A look of absolute concentration upon her now smudged up and sweat covered face.

"Wha... what in Oblivion are you doing Beth?" He asked as he strolled up and leaned on a rib.

Realizing the answer to his own question, Faendal gave a sigh in relief. She was back to normal. Well for Beth normal as this was typical of her to check the contents of the stomach of any beast they killed and crowing in success whenever she found something.

Usually it was some damaged piece of jewelry or gem covered in goodness knows what. Often shoving the smelly prize into his face, she would cry out happily, "Look! All it needs is a rinse and a shopkeeper will be none the wiser."

"And here I thought a day at just a forge got you messy with soot," he teased next and grinned when she looked up. The whites of her eyes startling in her now darkened by ash face. "So what do dragons like to eat?"

Giving and equally bright grin back she plucked a city guard's helmet out of the charred mess and threw it at the snickering others. They gave a small jump as it landed at their feet. One even screamed as a blackened skull popped loose from it and rolled after them.

"Gods! I think that's what's left of poor Girgon," another of them exclaimed.

"That... and a few other things," Beth gave sweetly and seemingly unaware of the men's reactions. At least until watching them scramble back, she gave a devious giggle.

Faendal managed a nervous grin as the guards cursed her. But he did not join in on enjoying her prank more. For as much as he cared for her, at times like he found her sense of humor a bit too dark and worrisome.

Clearing his throat he inquired, "Ah anything else?"

"Good amount of gold actually, few gems and some bits of armor and weapons that will probably only be good for melting down," she listed off as she handed the gold over first.

They stuffed the rest of spoils away in spare sacks on hand. Next upon her insistence he helped her take a few of the beast's smaller bones and bits of hide that survived the fire as well.

Once done as she tried to brush her apprentice robes clean Beth exclaimed, "The under armor worked once again. However the enchantment I put on it is not very effective. It's still child's play compared to what is normally found on other mage attire we've seen so far." Following Faendal along the long neck of the dragon's skeleton she tugged at his arm and exclaimed, "Oh-oh! Do you think the two of us could manage the skull too? Maybe the guards can-"

"No and I doubt after that little stunt you pulled, with their friend's helmet and head, they'll be up to doing you any favors."

"B-but-"

"We don't need it. Let the Jarl have it," Faendal interrupted firmly and ignored her rare pout.

Instead he focused on the task of pouring some water from his canteen over a rag. Not bothering to wring it out, he handed it to her soaked and instructed, "Here. Try to wash up. You're a mess."

"B-but he already has a dragon skull over his throne."

"And where would you hang this one?"

With a frown she still snatched it from him and grumbled, "Oh fine then. You're no fun and yes I am most aware of my state. But regardless I… I do still thank you for this."

He watched as she tugged off her fur gauntlets, drop them absently and proceed to scrub her face clean. With a sigh, Faendal promptly picked them up and proceeded to bring them down over his thigh a few times to knock the ash away. As he offered them back he asked, "Why do you want it? For that matter what is with all the bones and scales we already collected from that beast anyways?"

She did not say anything at first. Too busy tucking her gloves into her belt before admitting, "I think maybe I could find a way to fashion them into some kind of armor. Or at least shield. Maybe a bow or-what?"

"Nothing, I didn't say a word."

"No but you're giving me that look. Don't give me that look Brother. It makes perfect sense. For it stands to reason their hide is at least tough enough to withstand each other's fire correct? As for the bones I want to try a few things to see how strong and flexible they are." She finished with cleaning between her fingers. At him shaking his head when she offered the now dirty rag back, she tossed it over a shoulder and readied to go.

As she did so, Faendal sighed and quietly admitted, "When I... give you that look, as you call it, I mean no offense. I do so only because ah-what you say or do is surprising."

"Surprising? How?" Her eyes filled with worry and he rushed on to explain.

"Oh in a good way, mostly! Your reason for keeping the bones-it's a practical one. But for starters working with that material is not something usually done outside of Valenwood."

At Beth's grin Faendal remembered too late her step-father and muttered, "Right! Well we better get going before it get's dark."

He moved to shrug on his pack. Tried to ignore the warmth stinging his cheeks and the nagging realization why he was having more and more trouble talking to Beth. It was the same reason why he had trouble talking to Camilla.

 _Had... Gods when? When did I-_

Something started and ran off among the grass. "Probably just a rabbit," Faendal guessed absently as his attention snapped back to the present. They were still walking. Heavily weighed down but it was nothing new when heading back to Whiterun. The bones and scales instead of the usual bandit junk were the bulk of the problem. But when he suggested dropping a few Beth was adamant about keeping them all.

 _Every heavy and stinky one of them!_

He internally grumbled but could not help the small smile. When she fell into muttering aloud about how rare dragon skulls were and the missed opportunity and possible small fortune of selling one it grew. Still Faendal felt it was prudent to just keep his mouth shut until she calmed down. But her silence and slowing pace next had him concerned.

"We're going back to town, right?" He gently reminded when he realized she was getting them turned around. Usually he had no issue just indulging in her wandering about. Dutifully he would keep an eye out for the both of them but she was not as usual gathering ingredients. Instead her hands were fiddling and twisting if not at each other but the ends to her short braids.

When she said nothing, Faendal stopped her and gave her shoulder a gentle squeeze.

"Look, I'm sorry about the dam dragon skull."

"It's-it's not that," she gave tightly. And for once she did not shrug his hand off with a small uncomfortable laugh.

When she finally looked up and met his eyes he asked, "You want to talk about what happened back there? That... dragon soul? Did it hurt when it..."

Beth realizing where they were tried to offer cheerfully, "Oh no-no I'm fine truly given all that just happened. How about you?"

"Ah-ha sure you're fine," Faendal said, not at all convinced and simply waited.

Spotting a stubborn smudge still on her cheek he pulled another rag from a small pack on his belt. Before he could give it a second wipe Beth gave an irritable look and moved from his reach.

"I'll get it later. No need to fuss. I'm-I'm fine, just wondering about the Jarl. What he may want from us next and maybe what I should do instead."

That had Faendal hustling to catch up and question, "Wait? Don't you mean _we_ as in us?"

"Maybe but," a pained look flashed over her features before she went on. "There is something else in Windhelm I've been putting off. Plus you saw those guards at the tower. There were more armed men and women there than at Riverwood and still people died in stopping that dragon."

Keeping up easily with her smaller stride and line of thinking Faendal reluctantly added, "They panicked and some rushed up to the beast's mouth. Not the wisest course of action if you ask me. But you have a point Riverwood has maybe six to eight guards tops and only a few able bodied men and women."

As they kept walking back in the general direction of Whiterun's city gates, Beth tried to point out the positives. "At least you and I know what to expect. You could go back home and let the guards know what to do."

He concentrated but still kept on the lookout for trouble as they kept on cutting through the prairie land to save time. Before he worked out aloud, "Arrows and ranged spells seem effective. Best way to keep everyone out of biting, wing and tail range. Aim for the wings, eyes and mouth. The scales on the inner thighs and under the base of the wings seemed thinner too."

Beth nodded and added, "If someone could get under there while it's distracted and cut an artery it would probably bleed out quicker."

"True if it's as thin and soft as it looks. Trick would be not got get stepped on in the processes. Still what makes you think those Nord guards would take the advice of an old Bosmer like me?"

"I don't know but-hey quit saying that! You're not that old," Beth scolded but then grinned.

She next gave him a playful push. Overburdened like her, he lost his balance. But smiling back Faendal grabbed her as he fell and Beth promptly landed on top of him.

"Owf! Just not 'that old' huh?" Faendal added as their packs came off as they rolled in the dry grasses.

~.~.~

They both were next swatting at each other playfully. Beth said nothing, only kept laughing and struggling to get Faendal onto his back as they wrestled. Even though she was smaller, Beth just managed barely to do it. Or maybe he just let her but it did not matter. Once over him she cried out happily and smiled down at him in victory. Then as his laughter faded, she felt her cheeks flush hot in realization. She was laying over her friend in a way more fit for a lover.

A silence fell between them as they stared into one another's eyes. Each only working to catch their breath but neither really slowing. Beth did not miss how Faendal's gaze dropped to her lips. How his strong hands, settled upon her hips next squeezed lightly. To it Beth gave a small gasp as her fingers possessively dug into the leather covering his shoulders. An ache suddenly started up between her legs as well as a surge of great affection she always had for him grew in her heart. One that she constantly tried to deny all to keep things simple.

She watched on in disbelief as Faendal let out a shuddering exhale as one of his hands slid slowly up her back. It caused the idea of pinning him down and demanding a kiss next only to grow.

 _Knowing my poor luck he would probably protest, maybe at first._

She thought cynically, still she gave a small moan and hoped Faendal would not. For it had been a long time since she had kissed anyone deeply and truly. In fact not since her first and many more shortly afterwards with a young man visiting Bravil. One who claimed to work for Alisanne as just a simple messenger. But his dark robes, ebony dagger and what she heard him do to Travis however left her with no doubts he was something far more exciting.

With average looks and callused palms aside, rumors after the death of her Mistress being involved with the Black Hand did not help matters. It drove any would be perfect suitors off. Or so Ysbel constantly reminded her when Beth came home. Sometimes in tears, after a failed or just plain lack luster evening with another. The sudden disappearance of her mother's apprentice Travis months before did not help. It only added to further speculation and gossip.

The few remaining young men who tried to get to know her were only morbidly curious. After a few small kisses between too many questions, Beth learned quickly when it came to the men in Bravil. They cared little of her and instead only wanted to find out if all or some of the rumors about Alisanne were true.

"I don't know anything," was all Beth could say bitterly. At least until she gave up and brushed any other offers aside. Years past and Beth occupied herself with work at her stepfather's forge. Only indulging in romantic notions by keeping her nose and heart safe in one book after another. As well as dodging Ysbel's nagging to wash up, go out more, find a nice young man and settle down.

But now being on top of Faendal and still high from the excitement of battle she wanted more. Maybe even use some of her dearly departed Mother's advice when she pretended to not be listening.

Following instinct for now instead, Beth shifted her legs to straddle his hips and experimentally pressed her pelvis harder against his. Quietly she delighted in the end result. His body responded as he sucked in a breath and held her tighter. She could feel him hardening despite the layers of leather and fabric between them.

She knew what it meant. For what she lacked in first-hand experience Beth had made up in reading about it, from little pillow books regarding the practices of Dibella.

The thought of Camilla however had Beth hesitating but only just a little. Since before heading out that morning with Faendal to return the Dragonstone to Farangar, the younger women had pulled her aside. Beth welcomed the farewell hug she offered and returned it warmly but what came next chilled and crushed.

"The men here like my attention and I like theirs. Best know your place," Camilla whispered venomously in Beth's ear. "And do be a dear and leave my brother alone too."

"Pa-pardon me, wha-what?" Beth pulled back and gave her fellow Cyrodiilian an honestly confused and hurt look.

Camilla ignored the question and turned to a blank faced Faendal. She smiled at him then not so playfully teased, "Don't let your little sister here wander off or eat too many bugs now."

Apparently Camilla had been talking with Ralof or worse Faendal. Beth's cheeks had burned but she managed to clearly explain, "I... I only sample any new ingredients I find to determine what each has the potential to create. It's common-"

"Ah so you're an alchemist as well an adventurer now too then, hum?" Camilla prodded at Beth more until Lucan came up beside her and gave his sister's arm a small warning tug.

It made this moment now in the field, laying over Faendal in his embrace all the sweeter. Yet Beth made no further move. She wanted to savor him crossing the line. For once someone coming to her with no clue about of the rumors and just seeing and accepting her, quirks and all.

Unfortunately, he seemed to be warring in debate in regards of Camilla too. Still testing the waters cautiously, his back of his fingers slipped from brushing her left cheek to tuck under her left braid. An equally callused finger stroked over the slightly pointed shell of her hidden ear. He gave a small smile at finding there was mer as some put it, in her family tree.

His nearly black eyes darted over her face, gauging her reaction. When she did not jerk her head away or scramble off of him but instead gave a soft sigh he relaxed.

As Faendal kept teasing her ear, Beth happily shoved the nameless young man with his nightshades and broken promise aside. Hoping at long last her Mistress's messenger with the perfect smile would stop haunting her. In fact, she felt so silly to think for one moment the man she chased to the Bravil docks, fuming last Sun's Dusk could truly have been him.

Coming back to focus upon Faendal, Beth nuzzled her cheek into his hand. Turning her head she was just about to lay a chaste yet hopefully tempting kiss upon the base of his thumb when a loud crack filled the sky. The ground starting to shake and had both of them clinging to one another yet scrambled up to get onto their feet.

 **"DOV-AH-KIIN!"**

The shouted word rang from somewhere in the Southeast. As it echoed the rumbling faded as quickly as it started.

"What in Oblivion was that?" Beth asked as Faendal helped jerk her up.

Enfolding her protectively in his arms he whispered, "No clue. But by the Eight it was loud. Come on, we should get moving."

As they collected their packs Beth felt her stomach gave nervous flips and added, "Perhaps the Jarl or Farangar will know what it means. But if it involves me going South instead of North it's going to have to wait."

"Of course," Faendal agreed but did not sound happy about it. Clearing his throat and shouldering his pack as usual he let her take the lead. But having none of it, Beth slowed her pace until he took the hint and kept up and walked at her side.

With the moment gone and given what almost happened, Beth did not miss the fact there was now a new awkwardness between them. She did not dare say a word, nor did he until entering the city gates.

At spotting Warmaiden's and Adrianne Avenicci the owner with her husband heading for the Bannered Mare, Beth let her aching shoulders slump further. In fact she kicked a pebble in frustration on the path and grumbled, "Great they're closed!"

Seeing Faendal's "I told you so" look did not help matters or her mood. Wisely he only pointed out in disgust, "I bet Belathor's will be too by the time we get to the marketplace."

In unison they said, "Sleazy little man."

Cracking grins at each other next, things almost felt normal again. Not quite but close. Without having to discuss the problem further they both turned and headed for the Drunken Huntsman. It was their usual habit before taking rooms at inn for the night, well usually.

As he opened the door for them Faendal sighed, "Gods I'm tired. Don't know about you but I'm not looking forward to the long walk to Dragonsreach. Still we better be quick, shouldn't keep the Jarl waiting."

"Oh hooray, another hundred gold do you think?" Beth asked flatly then cracked a smirk.

Faendal chuckled but as they made their way to Elrindir's counter he pleaded, "Maybe but for the love of Mara, whatever they do or don't give us just promise to behave."

"Behave? Whatever do you mean by that? I _always_ behave," Beth promised with a not so innocent growing smile.


End file.
